A/N: Hello there! This is basically just a post-Battle of Hogwarts fic that finds George sort of lost after Fred's death and he finds comfort in an original character, Caroline, but she and Fred have an interesting history. Anyways, thanks so much for taking the time to look at this and if you like what you see, you know what to do. :)
As I walked up Diagon Alley, I came to a familiar building that had suddenly become a stranger. No longer were there lines of children and teenagers stretching out into the streets, just waiting to get a glimpse at what new products might be inside. No longer was there any sort of life about the place, really. It had all died with him.
I stopped briefly and inspected the storefront. "Closed indefinitely," read the messy, hand-scribbled sign hanging in the window. Not that it would matter anyway. Contrary to popular belief, now that Lord Voldemort was gone, people were still as frightened as ever to leave their houses, afraid some rogue Death Eater would come and seek retribution before being sent to Azkaban. Others were still living in the horror of that night – the Battle of Hogwarts. Poor Ginny Weasley had night terrors almost every night, and I sometimes saw the occasional suicide in The Daily Prophet, all people who felt they had nothing to live for anymore after losing so much.
It had been nearly five months, and now here I was. I quietly opened the door to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes without even using my wand; no one had even bothered to lock it, but not anything had been stolen, it seemed, probably because there wasn't another human being in a ten kilometer radius.
I solemnly trotted into the backroom and up the stairs to the flat above the store. This had been long overdue, but I just couldn't do it, not until now, anyway, and even at this moment, I was having extreme doubts. I knew if I saw anything that reminded me of him, I'd lose it, and the whole bloody flat was filled with him: his clothes, his smell, even the memories of all of his pranks. I could feel it all around me, even just standing outside the door.
I couldn't even imagine what George was going through. I'd been Fred's girlfriend, but he and George had done literally everything together since birth. If my heart felt like it had been wrenched out of my chest, I couldn't imagine what George's felt like. We had both lost our better half.
Still, I was halfway hoping George wouldn't be there, not only to give me a private moment alone with Fred's things, but just so I would know he was okay. Last time I talked to Molly, she said George hadn't left his flat at all since the battle. If someone wanted to visit him, they had to do it themselves, but eventually, he stopped letting them in, not even allowing apparitions or floo powder. I was only getting in simply because I had a key.
And if he wasn't there, maybe that meant he was visiting his family or friends, anything but holing himself up in the flat he and Fred used to share, not that I could really blame him.
I tried to step in as quietly as I could in case he was there, knowing he probably wouldn't feel like having a visitor.
As I tiptoed to Fred's bedroom, I heard a male voice clear his throat.
"How you doing, Georgie?" I asked, trying to be kind, peeking my head around a corner and giving him a sad, rather forced smile.
"Fine," he answered curtly. He was sitting on their couch, drinking what looked like firewhisky. He looked rough, like he hadn't slept in years, with his normally strong-looking frame now gaunt and his face covered in uneven red stubble; his usual suit was traded for a ratty t-shirt and jeans.
"Good." I nodded awkwardly. I'd never seen George or really anyone else like this before. "I'm just here to…."
"I know." He sounded irritable and like he wanted to be left alone.
"If you want anything from his room…." I started, wringing my sweating hands nervously.
"Keep it," he said, not even bothering to look up at me.
"Right," I mumbled, keeping my head down, making my way to Fred's bedroom.
As I stepped inside, I had to hold on to the door frame so as not to fall to my knees right then and there. It still smelled just like his old cologne. I sat down on the edge of his bed slowly, gently picking up his comforter and breathing in his scent. On our last real night alone together, before we'd gone into hiding, we had spent it in here, jokingly saying that if it was going to be our last night, we might as well make it a good one, not even understanding the full seriousness of our statements.
He had several pictures of his family, particularly with George, on his dresser, along with some new prototypes for the store.
I quickly pulled out some boxes from my purse – a neat trick I'd learned from Hermione Granger – and used my wand to get all of his things, no matter if they were in a drawer, in the closet, or sprawled out messily on the floor. I was soon done, deciding it best to look at whatever I kept another time. I did happen to catch a brief glimpse of a photograph at the top of one of the boxes and I pulled it out cautiously, already preparing myself.
It was us, Fred's twentieth birthday, only about a month before he died. We looked happy, laughing as the camera caught our photo. We knew we could die at any moment, but we were just so happy to be there. He had been so brave, dying like a true soldier, but why did I feel like it hadn't been worth anything?
I clutched the photo hard to my chest, foolishly thinking that if I wanted it badly enough, Fred might appear before me, but he never did. I began to sob, practically screaming, just like that night when I saw him lying in the Great Hall, his eyes blank. I paid no attention to the fact that George was probably only a few rooms over and he probably didn't want to hear my crying, either.
What seemed like an eternity later, I finally composed myself, mentally exhausted from just being in his room. He was written all over it, calling out to me, but try as I had to reply, no one ever answered.
I crawled underneath his covers, resting my head on the two pillows he always stacked on top of one another. I decided to close my eyes for just a few moments, remembering all the times I'd slept underneath these covers, my head on his chest.
It had all started when he asked me to the Yule Ball our sixth year. We had always been great friends, but I still happily agreed, having secretly started to see him in a different light. I had spent the entire day before primping, giggling with my friends, and asking my mother to send my best dress robes. He and I spent the entire night dancing, eventually ending up like one of those cliché dance scenes you always saw on television – cheek to cheek, moving slowly in a little square rather than actually dancing. By the end of the night, I had gotten the goodnight kiss to end all goodnight kisses, practically floating back up to my dorm and while we had been off and on for a while, we had really been almost inseparable, particularly lately.
I soon fell asleep, humming the same tune we'd danced to all those years ago, clasping our photo in my hand.
Apparently I didn't get to sleep for very long, because I soon felt a bony hand shaking me awake.
"Caroline?"
I popped up immediately at the sound of my name, embarrassed but not even really aware of what I'd been doing.
"You were having a nightmare," George informed me, going back to his usual gentleness.
"Oh," I replied quietly, scrambling my brain for any memory of what I'd been dreaming about, but it didn't exactly take a genius to figure it out. "Loud?"
"Loud," he affirmed, helping me up.
As I sat at their kitchen table while George made some tea, I didn't try to make small talk as I really didn't know what to say.
He laid out a cup of tea before me and I took it just like Fred had, two sugars and a dash of milk. After downing it in silence, I put my cup back down, swallowing the last bit of my tea.
"Forget this." I gestured over to the empty teacup before me as he held up his old, worn teapot. "I'll have whatever you were having."
He silently got the bottle of firewhisky for me. I declined his offer for a clean glass, instead simply unscrewing the bottle and taking a large swig of it.
"Ouch," I muttered, feeling the burning sensation in my chest. Regular whisky hurt going down, so I don't know why I chose to drink something with "fire" in its name. Mr. Weasley always joked that you'd have to be drunk to drink this stuff.
The burning was soon replaced by a relaxing feeling of warmth, however, as George and I sat in somewhat comfortable silence. We both knew there was not much to say, especially about him, but we also knew each other well enough that it wasn't so awkward. Out of all the people that knew Fred and George, I'd been around them often enough and for such a long time that I could tell all the differences between them, however subtle. I'd been Muggle-born, but I had quickly made friends with them our first year, being entrusted with the deepest of their secrets and as the right hand woman to their mischief.
Even when Fred and I started dating, George was still always around, not that either of us minded. Sometimes we even double-dated. George had always been the quieter, gentler one of the two, even Fred admitted it, but I couldn't help but be attracted to Fred's more outgoing nature and deep affection for his family. He'd been the first to forgive Percy, and George the last. Whereas Fred was more of an open book, you never really knew what George was thinking when he got all quiet. Even in our shared grief, I had no idea what was running through his head as we sat there in silence.
"How is everyone?" George obviously knew that I'd been spending quite a bit of time with his family, more time than he had recently.
"They're good. Worried about you," I told him. "Ginny's back at Hogwarts, and Hermione, too, she went back. It looks really nice, actually. Harry turned down a job with the Ministry, Ron too. Percy's still there, with Shacklebolt, but he comes 'round a lot. We think he'll marry that Clearwater girl soon. And as for me, it's been pretty much the same. I'm still at St. Mungo's, healing. There's been a great need for that," I frowned.
George nodded, seemingly unsurprised by any of this information.
"Your ear, er, well, lack thereof, looks better," I noticed. "Not using it to hold things anymore I see."
"The hole finally healed up," he replied. "But it makes a good conversation piece. Helps with the ladies," he mused, actually cracking a smile, his long fingers delicately circling around his teacup as he took a quick sip.
I rolled my eyes at his comment, silently noting that Fred would've thought his little brother's cheesy joke was funny, too.
"Well," I started awkwardly, now thinking about Fred even more, "I should probably be going now." As I stood up, George gently touched my arm.
"You don't have to. I could use some company," he admitted. "You're not like my family, questioning me every five minutes, making sure I won't do something crazy. Besides, there is an entire bottle of firewhisky to finish and I could use a laugh," he said, glancing at me knowingly.
"One time, George Weasley, one time!" I began to laugh, remembering my first drink (or five).
"That one time was before graduation," he reminded me, leading me into the living room.
"Your dad had to run up and practically drag me off stage," I snickered.
"Was that before or after you flashed Snape?"
"His face," I recalled, laughing as I sat down on the sofa next to George.
"Probably the only naked woman he'd ever seen in his life," George surmised.
"It was all Fr – his fault, really. He gave me the bloody stuff, said it would help with my nerves." I chuckled anxiously, mentally kicking myself for even starting to mention that name in front of George. I hadn't even realized what I'd said until it came out of my mouth.
I could see the pained look on his face immediately, but he quickly changed the subject.
"So…new television. Never been used. And since you're my guest, I say I decide what we watch," he said, looking at me with fake sternness.
"Just because you're missing an ear doesn't mean I'm afraid to hurt you," I threatened, repeating his look.
He rolled his eyes, quickly finding a Quidditch match to absorb himself in while I began in on the firewhisky. We both took turns drinking it, stopping before either one of us got drunk. Eventually, we both sat there, caught up in the game, Ireland vs. Scotland, my home country. As I took what I vowed to be my last sip, I noticed the space between George and I had gotten smaller and smaller, my hand practically touching his thigh when I just laid it down on the couch. As the game went into overtime, I yawned sleepily, putting my head on George's shoulder, an act that made him look at me quizzically even though I'd probably done it a million times before I'd started dating Fred.
He gave me another glance, more relaxed this time, before seeing the bottle in the floor next to me, reaching for it.
"No, bad," I scolded, holding the bottle away from George. "We said we would not get drunk."
"Oh, come on," he urged, and at that moment, he reminded me exactly of Fred. He was his own ringleader now.
I decided to joke around, standing up on his couch, holding the bottle out of his reach.
He soon caught me, playing along, wrapping his arms around my legs and bringing me down somewhat gently.
I swiftly got out of his grip, jogging across his flat with the bottle in hand, going along a dark corridor.
"Why does he have to keep it so bloody dark all the time?" I thought to myself as I opened a door quietly and snuck in, hoping I'd lost him in all the darkness and confusion. I normally knew this place like the back of my hand, but I don't think I'd been to this side of the flat much.
"Lumos," I whispered as I flicked my wand, trying to get a better view. I was standing in the middle of George's bedroom.
I soon heard him come in, obviously seeing the light under the door. I put it out, determined to hide and scare the pants off him as I stepped into what I thought was his closet.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he taunted. "I'm going to win this. I taught you everything you know. Never shall the grasshopper," he said, swinging open his closet door to reveal me, "surpass the master," he grinned smugly.
"Fine, you got me," I admitted, handing over the bottle, which he quickly sat down, apparently not wanting it anymore.
"Lumos maxima," I commanded. Even for a witch and someone who had just fought in a war, I was still a bit frightful of the dark. It seemed like nothing good ever happened when the lights were out.
"And Ireland just won," he informed me. "So you owe me a Galleon. Rough night for you, eh?"
"Oh, shut up, Fred," I said jokingly as I reached into my bag, then paused.
"Oh, Merlin." I mumbled. "I'm going to go die. In a hole. Now." I quickly pushed past him, tears filling my eyes for both my embarrassment and of the pain it reminded us both. George stopped me on my way out, however, catching my arm again.
His face looked pained once more, but he attempted to comfort me as I laid down my wand, letting the light go out while he embraced me in a tight hug.
I cried into his shoulder for a minute, then finally decided to look up at him, squinting in the dark. "I'm sorry," I began. "I can really be quite stupid sometimes, and –"
I stopped suddenly when I saw his brown eyes, identical to his brother's, staring at me in the waning moonlight. His eyes were full of tears too, and all I could think of was somehow making that pain go away.
I looked at him sympathetically, bringing up a hand to wipe the tears off his face. He smiled back at me tenderly, then very slowly grabbed my hand, moving it away from his cheek to his lips, kissing it softly as if to test the waters. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me, like he needed me, or just because of my hurt, but once he was done, I grabbed his face, kissing him hard and pulling us down together onto his bed, the taste of firewhisky and salty tears commingling in our mouths.
Edit: I slightly altered the timeline from two months after the battle to five months after. It will make a lot more sense in later chapters, promise. And also, it came to my attention that I included a television in here, but for my story, or in my head anyway, I think there would be some wizarding TV channels and Quidditch sports channels, but that's just me. Plus, we all know Fred and George could afford something like that, anyway. Thanks so much for the favorite and the follows and please keep reading! :)